The Goon vs Jason Voorhees
by ColdCupoJoe
Summary: Hello all! Welcome to another addition to my battle series, this time pitting the Goon from the Dark Horse Comics universe against Jason Voorhees from Friday the 13th! Narratively pulling the Goon as an amalgamation of his depictions as well as an amalgamation of Jason, with the exception of the 9th film. Hopefully I got all characterizations right and y'all enjoy!


The Goon vs Jason Voorhees

All was quiet on Lonely Street, a road running through the darkened alley, a single streetlight flickering above a building with a neon sign reading "Norton's Pub." Although feet shuffled up and down the street, the heavy bar door remained shut, a sturdy barrier for the bar patrons.

Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the faces belonging to the hundreds of shuffling feet. Green, grotesque zombies, their teeth holey and rotten, wandered aimlessly, their mouths agape, as they bounced off of each other walking through the street.

Two bright lights grabbed the attention of the undead horde, their heads rising only briefly before being mowed over by a black open-top car and a hail of gunfire. The car stopped outside of Norton's Pub, a constant stream of gunfire keeping the zombies at bay. Out of the car stepped two pairs of feet, one set small in polished brown shoes, the other heavy in blood- and muck-stained boots.

"You know Goon," the smaller man piped up, a thick Brooklyn accent cutting through the cacophony of zombie moans, "evil like this wouldn't exist if it weren't for horny teens."

Goon, the second man, standing over twice the height of the smaller, stepped wordlessly over the pile of undead corpses, skulls cracking beneath his boots.

"Think about it," the man continued, periodically thrusting his knife downward into still moving zombies as they made their way to the pub. "They're always trying to shove their wangdoodles into each other at the least opportune times."

"Franky," Goon's lips cracked as he flung open the door to Norton's Pub, ushering his friend in. Franky hustled into the small establishment, taking in a big whiff the stench of smoke and spilt beer.

"You see," Franky continued to spout, plopping his rump onto one of the bar stools near a few of the other sedentary patrons.

Franky's voice droned on as Goon lifted his hand toward the bartender who immediately slid him a mug of frothy beer. He tilted the mug back as Franky continued to run his mouth. He had learned over the countless years that half of what his small partner said was a load of bull, and the other half wasn't worth listening to.

Goon's eyes focused on the small box television hanging from the ceiling, highlights of the Canners football game on repeat. A small red bar of text ran across the bottom of the screen that caught his attention.

_Dangerous Criminal Bobby Rook On The Loose, Last Seen Near Forest Green, Ohio. Caution Advised._

"Franky, we gotta go." The mob enforcer slammed his mug onto the counter, his grip bending the metal of the handle. Rook's name was familiar, having shown up in Labrazio's black book, the same book containing the names of all the men he hunted down for extortion. He wasn't about to let Rook think he could escape him in some backwoods ass town in Ohio.

"I haven't even gotten a drink yet!" Franky protested, still waving a few dollars in the direction of the bartender as Goon grabbed him by the nape of his neck, dragging him back out the door.

[Camp Crystal Lake]

Lightning flashes threw dancing shadows between the trees. A dirt path cut through the woods, a pair of dirty loafers carrying a terrified man across it.

Bobby Rook sprinted toward a set of dilapidated cabins in the clearing ahead. His head swiveled frantically, behind him to the dark woods and the lake to his side. He didn't see anyone, but he knew he wasn't alone in the wilderness.

Rook reached the cabins, tugging on each of the wooden doors to find them locked from the inside, unable to move. He panicked, moving from cabin to cabin, each to the same result.

"This ain't how I'm gonna go," Rook muttered to himself, looking around to find any sort of salvation. "Came here to get away from one Goon just to run into another. This is bullshit. Just bullshit."

He tugged on the door to the main lodge, only to find it just as inaccessible as the cabins.

"C'mon!" Bobby shouted, turning to look down the dirt path he came from, two bright beams advancing toward him. Rook's face lit up with relief, running a few steps in the direction of the headlights before stopping in his tracks, a new look of terror returning to his face.

"Rook!" Goon shouted, stepping out of the car, his heavy boots sinking into the mud. He slammed a lead pipe into his off-hand threateningly, nodding to Franky to stay in the car. Franky grinned, throwing his feet up onto the steering wheel to relax and watch the show.

"N-n-no, no!" Bobby stammered, taking a few steps backwards, but was halted as he bumped into a figure behind him. He slowly turned, looking in dread at the massive man that blocked his retreat.

Standing before him was a mountain of a man, standing a good foot over the thug, a dark blue jacket opening up to a dirty white shirt, a neck almost as thick as his shoulders underlying his obscured face, only his dark eyes visible through a dingy hockey mask.

The man reached out with one hand, wrapping his hand around Bobby's temple and placing his thumb deep into his eye socket. Rook screamed as he was lifted into the air, blood pouring out of his eye, only to be silenced as his assailant swiped his machete across Rook's neck, decapitating the thug in one fell swoop.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?!" Goon shouted, eying this behemoth of a man before turning back to Franky. "Who the fuck does he think he is?!"

"Looks like that Jason guy," Franky called nonchalantly out from the car, waving a folded brochure with the title of _Camp Crystal Lake_ in the air. "Pretty active for a dead guy though. Slackjaw?"

"He's gonna get this pipe through his skull regardless," Goon gritted his teeth, closing the distance between him and the masked menace.

Jason snapped to attention, eyes focused on the advancing bulky man, before throwing the decapitated head at Goon. Goon swatted the head out of the air, pausing briefly to wipe the sprayed blood from his scarred face. The masked killer took advantage of Goon's hesitation, charging with his shoulder lowered.

The two collided at a standstill, much to Jason's surprise, as Goon simply took his shoulder to the gut, his own pipe raised high. Goon swung his pipe down, striking Jason in his spine.

Jason straightened his back without pain even after the pipe connected with his back. He grabbed Goon by the sides of his shoulders, pinning his arms to his sides.

"You need a hand" Franky called out, absentmindedly looking down at a vaguely risqué magazine. As he asked, Goon flew above the car, thrown by Jason, slamming against a tree in the near distance. Goon slammed his hand on the ground, rising to his feet, a renewed rage building in his eyes.

"He's mine," Goon said through clenched teeth, walking up to the car, reaching into the back seat and grabbing a fire-axe. "I wanna see his insides."

Jason cocked his head slightly, seeing the Goon pulling the cap further down on his head and sprinting at him. Goon raised the axe, swinging it over his head at Jason who sidestepped the weapon, raising his own machete.

"Enough dancing," Goon snarled, quickly dropping the axe and reaching up to grab Jason's wrist. Jason tried to swing down regardless, but Goon's strength held true, his arm fixed in an upward position.

"Give 'em the ol' one-two!" Franky shouted, turning his magazine to see a full double-page spread.

The Goon punched upward, catching Jason in the jaw, knocking his mask clean off and sending him flying backwards, though the arm remained in the Goon's grip, tearing free at the shoulder.

Goon looked curiously at the dismembered arm still in his hand, tendons and bone dangling from the limb, a thick dark blood dripped from the stub. He tossed the arm aside, still holding its sharp machete, and walked off in the direction that Jason had been flung.

Walking through the darkened woods after retrieving his axe, Goon found the impact spot, grass matted and mud imprinted with large boots seemingly walking away from the crash.

"Pussy's gonna make me chase him down…" Goon sneered, stomping through the woods to chase down his victim. He stumbled upon a shack, held together by plywood and overgrown vines, a small metal door being the only entrance.

The Goon planted his heavy boot onto the metal door, breaking it free of its hinges. The interior was darkened but Goon could make out a small round shrine set up in the middle of the dirt floor, atop the table lay a withered baby blue sweater upon which rested the rotting head of a woman, mouth agape and eyes long since rotted away.

Goon stepped cautiously into the shack, only to be stopped in his tracks as a loud metallic _SNAP_ sent a sharp pain up his leg. He shouted in pain as he looked down, a bear trap having clamped around his ankle, thick blood flowing out onto the dirt ground. He reached down to pry the bear trap open, the metal teeth taking chunks of flesh with them as they opened back up.

As he freed his foot, Jason charged from the side, grabbing Goon by the neck with his one remaining arm, lifting him into the air and squeezing the life from his body. Goon struggled at first, but his eyes focused as he flexed his neck muscles, opening up his airway as he now just stared at the hockey mask wearing man.

"That your best?" Goon asked disappointedly, bringing his arm around to swing the axe still in his hand, connecting with Jason's torso just below the ribs. The axe cleaved through Jason's decaying flesh, tearing his body completely in half, sending his legs flopping in one direction while his upper half let go of Goon's neck and fell within the shack.

Goon fell back to his feet, brushing himself off, before seeing Jason's top half pulling himself away with his single arm, moving toward the circular shrine.

"Not so fast there bud," Goon mumbled, stepping on the back of Jason's bald head, pinning him in place. He forced his foot downward in a satisfying crunch, squeezing Jason's head flat and spraying blood and brain matter across the dirt floor, making a bloody dish on the back of the hockey mask.

"Uhh Goon, buddy," the Brooklyn accent of Franky called out from the woods, followed by a bright flash of light in the night sky and a splash in the lake. Goon turned to see Franky pointing.

"I think this boss fight got a second form," Franky continued. As he said that the water of Crystal Lake began to bubble as a figure emerged, similar to the Jason from before, but the entire right side of his body had shining metallic plating, what was once his hockey mask now a metallic faceplate fused to his head, furious red eyes peering through the mask.

"Just because regular Jason wasn't a fair match, they send this bullshit?" Goon asked into the air, seemingly to nowhere. "This Jason X guy doesn't even make sense in his own movie canon!"

"Don't tell him that," Franky said, pointing at the advancing cyborg, his futuristic machete glinting in the moonlight. "I'm gonna go back to the car and let you handle this."

Franky sprinted back into the woods leaving Goon by himself, only answered by his annoyed grunt. Goon looked toward the lakeshore, Jason finally left the water, his heavy feet making craters in the rocky sand.

"Getting really tired of you, pal," Goon said, pulling a revolver from the back of his waist, firing twice at the masked menace. The metallic _ping_ of ricochet rang through the night as the bullets bounced harmlessly off his metal plated torso.

Jason was undeterred by the gunshots, but raised his machete and hurled it at the Goon, catching reflections of the moonlight as it flew. Goon dropped his gun, readying to catch or block the machete, but was too slow as it embedded itself into both his palm and shoulder, pinning them to each other. The Goon grunted in pain, blood pouring and staining his white shirt red. He dropped his axe to pry the machete blade from his shoulder, freeing his other hand as Voorhees quickly closed the distance.

Jason made the first move, punching straight through the Goon's stomach, a fistful of organs emerging from his backside. Goon gritted his teeth as he used both hands to push the monster of a man off him, tearing his arm free of his stomach.

"My kidney!" Goon shouted, looking down at the fist-sized hole in his torso. "I planned on using that kidney!"

Goon grabbed Jason by what remained of his collar, throwing a massive fist into the behemoth's faceplate. The mask dented, but Jason's red eyes glared furiously back at Goon, using his cybernetic arm to punch him in the chest, just below his shoulder wound, and sending him flying backwards, coming to a full stop a few meters back as his boots dug into the ground..

Goon clutched his chest in pain, but looked down to see a thick tree branch which he grabbed and brandished like a club. Jason mirrored this by reaching down for his machete, still wet with the Goon's blood.

"You wanna try it again, tough guy?" Goon spat up blood, opening and closing his wounded hand to keep the feeling.

Jason stomped heavily toward Goon, raising his axe high before swinging it down towards his head. Goon raised the branch, slowing the machete swing ever so briefly to allow Goon to side-step the blade. As the machete swung clear, Goon shot his bloodied arm outward, embedding his fingers into the exposed neck of the cyborg serial killer.

Jason's eyes went wide, looking down to see Goon's hand twitching in his neck, probing for a solid grip. His arm tightened as he found his grip, pulling it back to rip out Jason's spine, his skull being pulled with it sliding from underneath the mask, leaving a deformed flesh bag to crumple to the ground, dead.

Goon tossed aside the bony remnants of his foe, letting out one final sigh of relief, before making his way back through the dark forest to scold his cowardly partner.

Winner: The Goon

Stay tuned for Agent 47 (Hitman) vs Sam Fisher (Splinter Cell)!


End file.
